Fire Moon
by RosieCotton3791
Summary: Three hundred years before Thorin Oakenshield set out to reclaim his home, a woodland elf-maid lost hers. Deep in the Elvenking's Halls, with a king who's heart has seemingly turned to stone and a prince who shields himself with an armor of ice, she must rediscover the meaning of hope. Tauriel's story before the Hobbit.
1. Chapter 1

**Fire Moon**

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Disclaimer: Despite begging New Line Cinema and the Tolkien Estate to gift me the rights to Legolas, they have shown no interest in doing so. That means I still own nothing even remotely connected to the Hobbit or Lord of the Rings.

Characters: Tauriel, Legolas, and Thranduil. Special Appearance, Elrond.

Rated: K+ Some violence and minor character deaths. Nothing too graphic.

This is dedicated to **LiteraryGirl4Ever**. Happy Birthday my dear _mellon_!

A/N: To translate the elvish I used an online translator called **Elvish Translator – Fun Translations. **Some of the elvish words use in this story I've seen spelled differently in other fanfictions. If they are incorrect, please forgive me. Hopefully my elvish will improve with time. :)

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_300 years before "I saw a fire moon once…"_

Chapter 1

"Were the elves the first to awaken, or was it the dwarves?" The elf-maid closed the book she had been studying and propped her chin in her hands.

"The elves, Tauriel. You know that." Her mother glanced up from the bundle of arrows she was feathering. "Why do you ask?"

Tauriel pushed a few stray strands of hair behind her pointed ears. Wrapping her arms around her knees she began, "Radagast told me—"

"You went to see _Radagast _again?" Tauriel's father entered through the northern archway where he had been sharpening his knives on the balcony. He slid his twin daggers into the sheaths on his back before sitting down beside his wife, Tinuel.

"There is no harm in it, Talathon," Tinuel stated quietly.

"I know. But he is an odd one, you must admit." He offered Tinuel a raised eyebrow, then a smile to his daughter. It was an elven smile — quiet and easy to miss.

"Radagast told me a story of the First Age," Tauriel continued. "He said that Aulë formed the dwarfs before we awoke but was ashamed of his disobedience. He was going to destroy them when Ilúvatar who had known about the dwarfs all along stopped him. He gave them life and they became his adopted children." Her voice trailed off in a musing manner. "I've never seen a dwarf. What are they like?"

"They are stunted creatures," Talathon replied slowly, "with large beards. They live under-ground, prefer to carry axes, and stomp everywhere."

"But inside? What are they like inside?"

Talathon and Tinuel exchanged a pleased look. "Brave, kind in their own way, and loyal even to a fault," answered Talathon. He walked to his daughter and gently kissed her forehead. _She is curious of other races_, thought Talathon, _unusual for an elf_.

That evening Tauriel sat pondering her father's description of the dwarfs. She watched as dusk morphed into night. At the first pin-prick of light appearing above her leafy bower, she stood to find her parents.

"May I go out of the forest tonight?" she asked hopefully, finding them on one of the balconies.

After a moment of consideration, her parents nodded. She was seven hundred after all.

"Take your bow!" Tinuel called. "_A maui Ilúvatar tir-nia cin_, (And may Ilúvatar watch over you)" she whispered.

§

Tauriel swung down the steps spiraling perfectly around the tree trunk. Her home, like all elven dwellings in Mirkwood, was built in the trees. A _talan _they called it. Only the Halls of the Elven King to the north were underground. Delved into the earth, centuries of carving had transformed the stone columns into an underground forest. Their beauty was legendary. In all the Wilderland, only the dwarfish city of Erebor could contest with them. Tauriel had only heard of these underground kingdoms. Perhaps someday she would see them for herself.

She paused on the step to adjust her quiver before setting off into the night.

§

Standing on the knoll which rose gently out of the earth beside the River Running, she could see for miles. She came here often, but no matter how many times she visited the effect was always the same. When she tipped her head back, the world would fall away, the white light of forever filling the air.

All light was sacred to the Eldar, but wood-elves loved best the light of the stars. It had been their guide since the time before Arien and Tilion, her persistent lover, began their travels across the sky. Sparkling beacons of hope, they remained precious and pure, a promise sworn out of love.

Laying back onto the grass, Tauriel stared in breathless wonder at the scintillating heavens. Slowly, her mind welcomed the peaceful stillness that was elven dreams. Enshrouded in fog to the east, the Lonely Mountain, like a spectral shadow, stood guard over the silence.

§

The sun was rising when Tauriel began her journey home. The brilliance of the sky dimmed beneath the trees but the memory would be enough to satisfy her longing until the next visit.

Soon after entering the forest, Tauriel sensed a whisper of unrest in the trees. It became stronger as she neared her home. A sudden wave of pain passed through her and she stopped short. Closing her eyes, Tauriel drew in her breath sharply. Black speech. Orcs.

Her eyes flew open and Tauriel's features hardened into the icy calm that was the particular trait of elves in battle. Without a sound she swung herself up onto the nearest branch. A feathered shaft silently slid into position on her bow.

Moments later a group of fifty of the decrepit creatures passed below her. Their foul language polluted the air. The stench that hung about them as they trudged by made Tauriel gag. Though she had never been in a conflict with orcs, her parents had prepared her for this moment. Mirkwood was too unpredictable.

When the orcs had moved past, she dropped cautiously out of the tree. Her relief was shadowed by a new fear growing in her mind. The orcs had come from the direction of – Banishing all thought, she ran.

As Tauriel reached the clearing, her heart faltered in its beat, then froze. The branches on which her home had balanced were cruelly hacked down. Her family's _talan _had been cast to the ground and lay crushed at the foot of the tree.

Then she saw them. Instantly, Tauriel was beside her parents. Kneeling, she gazed in horror at their still forms, their closed eyes. Elves didn't close their eyes unless… Their broken bows were scattered nearby. Numerous arrows littered the clearing, most protruding from dead orcs. Her father's hands still held his daggers. Something black and viscous stained the silver blades.

She knelt there transfixed like Beren over the body of Finrod in the ghastly dungeon of a necromancer long ago. No tears ran down her cheeks. No sobs escaped her throat. Her face was expressionless and cold, but her heart was screaming.

It had been the voice of his beloved that roused Beren from his grief. For Tauriel, it was the howls of orcs. Tauriel spun nimbly to her feet and drew another arrow from her quiver.

"Beri- nin, (_protect me_)" she whispered, "and may my arrows fly true_._"

§

The first orc to enter the clearing was thrown backwards with an arrow to his chest. The second and the third received the same treatment, but others managed to advance. Tauriel caught a movement out of the corner of her eye. She swirled left just in time to avoid the arrow of an orc archer. A second later, the orc was sprawled on the ground. Tauriel had returned his gesture with deadly accuracy. Though the brush surrounding the clearing was choked with orcs, the mound of dead ones at Tauriel's feet continued to grow.

A growl behind her turned Tauriel. A larger breed of goblin leaped off a tree branch toward her. Instinctively, she ducked but the handle of the creature's mace caught her hard on the shoulder. Both Tauriel and the goblin were knocked to the ground. Sitting up quickly, she shook her head in an attempt to banish the raging dizziness descending upon her. As the other orcs pressed forward, Tauriel reached for her bow but found it trapped under the prostrate form of the unconscious goblin.

Seeing her predicament, a nearby orc lunged forward reaching a claw-like hand for her scarlet hair. Tauriel swung around, grabbed an arrow from her quiver, and thrust it towards the orc's face. The creature's own momentum drove the shaft home.

Swiftly springing to her feet, Tauriel glanced frantically about for another weapon. Her eyes lighted upon her father's daggers. He had never trained her to use them but they were her only hope. She dodged under the curved scimitar of an orc and slid the remaining distance to her father's side grabbing the handles as another wave of orcs moved toward her.

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I would love to know what you thought of this first chapter. I will try and post the next one some time this week. A huge thank you to everyone who read, reviewed, or favorited my last story! - Rosie C.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

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Three days. Three days of tracking the marauders and still they had not caught up with them.

Thranduil, the great Elven King of Mirkwood, tightened his grip on the reins of his elk— but only briefly. It had been thousands of years since he had lost his characteristic calm. He wasn't about to have a miscreant band of orcs disturb it.

Thranduil didn't need to glance back to know that seventy warriors were following in perfect step. His army was one of his chief prides. Every one of Thranduil's elves could disappear instantly into the forest if he but raised his hand. Their fighting skills were unmatched by any in Middle-earth, not only with bows, but with spears and knives as well. They were as comfortable running along the tree branches as they were on the ground. It had taken centuries to amass such a battalion, but without an elven Ring of Power, Thranduil had had no other option to keep his people safe.

The king raised his head a fraction of an inch and reined in his elk. The magnificent animal snorted softly, sensing danger. Thranduil beckoned the elf who had been riding directly behind him to move up. A white stallion drew alongside the elk and Thranduil looked into the sapphire and snow eyes of his son. Legolas, his _greatest _pride.

"_Hîr nín _(My lord)," Legolas glanced pointedly into the forest ahead and then back to his father.

"It sounds as if the orcs have begun to fight among themselves," Thranduil concluded. "Take a few warriors and scout out their position. Do not engage unless you have no other choice. Send one of your party to report back to me."

Legolas bowed and dismounted in a smooth, silent leap. Gesturing twelve elves to follow him, he sprung lightly into the nearest tree. As the elves disappeared into the forest, Thranduil looked on in satisfaction. If his warriors were the finest on middle-earth, Legolas was nonpareil.

§

Again, Tauriel was beaten down. Again, she stumbled to her feet. Catching the uplifted blade of an orc on one dagger, she thrust her other knife into the orcs side, leaping away from the falling body. She stabbed behind her, catching an orc in the arm. The creature screeched and yanked his arm away, taking her dagger with it. The move knocked Tauriel off balance. As she fell the orc grabbed her wrist. Tauriel slashed at him with her remaining knife but his armor checked the blow. The orc threw Tauriel backward and she landed hard against a tree. The air in her lungs expelled in a moan and she dropped to the ground, her remaining dagger dislodged from her hand.

The lights of Elbereth danced before her eyes as she struggled to stand. Through blurred vison, she watched as the orcs laughed, if that hideous sound could be called such. Circling the tree, they advanced together, cutting off all hope of escape. Tauriel took a shaky breath and raised her head. If she was going to die, she would do so bravely.

The largest orc lunged forward but he never reached Tauriel. An arrow like a lightning bolt shot from the canopy. Then another and another until the air was thick with shafts.

A command shouted in elvish sent twelve figures summersaulting from the trees. Twelve sets of knives slid from their sheaths and a deadly dance began before Tauriel's unfocused eyes. She pulled herself back and watched in awe. It wasn't long before a massive elk charged into the clearing it's rider a flame of silver robes and autumn-moon hair. Fleeting shadows of forest green flashed in after him.

Almost as suddenly as the battle began, everything stilled. There was silence and then the sound of knives being re-sheathed. The elk's rider gave a few curt orders and then his attention shifted to Tauriel.

One of the company approached and gestured Tauriel to come forward. Leather armor cascaded down his sleeves in the pattern of leaves, a hint of silver burnishing the edges. Though his face was expressionless, there was something about his eyes, the color of a winter sky, that seemed caring and kind. She took a step toward him but exhaustion halted her and she stumbled. She would have fallen had the elf not quickly stepped forward and caught her arm. He led her to the leader of the party, who still was astride his elk. As they came closer, Tauriel noticed a circlet of silver resting elegantly on his brow. There was an ethereal atmosphere surrounding him, one commanding respect. Tauriel bowed.

_He is the king_, Tauriel realized.

"What is your name, child?" Thranduil questioned. His manner was formal but his choice of words hinted compassion.

"_Tauriel -iel -o__Talathon_," she said in a whisper.

Thranduil glanced over her head reading the rest of her story in the ruins of her talan. "_Maui theui rad- sidh in gurth_. (May they find peace in death.)" He nodded once.

"You will return to the halls with us," Thranduil stated. "My warriors will tend to the dead. Legolas, take her on your horse." The elf who had caught her bowed and beckoned for Tauriel to follow him. She obeyed without comprehending. All she understood now was that her parents were dead.

Leaving a few elves to look to the aftermath of the battle, Thranduil turned back into the forest. Legolas led Tauriel to his stallion, Percime*****, and helped her to mount behind him. She felt the horse swing into a gentle trot, moving away from the clearing where she had spent all seven hundred of her years. Tauriel wanted desperately to look back but could not bring herself to turn around. Her heart would not allow it.

_They are gone_, she thought, tears spilling down her cheeks.

As if reading her mind, Legolas glanced back at the elf-maiden. Her head was bowed. She was weeping. The sight of her stirred something inside him and prompted him to speak. "_Theui are ú- lelya-_. (They are not gone.) You will find them again."

Tauriel raised her head.

"_Huor_, (Courage)" he whispered and faced forward again.

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*****Percime is "Percy" in Quenya. On the set of LOTR, Orlando Bloom's horse was named Percy. He really liked that horse, declaring, "I've got one of the best horses on set!" It only seemed fitting to name Legolas's horse "Percy" as well.

**TBC**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

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The musical voices of the elves echoed deep in the chasms of the Elven King's halls. Spring had snuck past the vigilance of winter, tentatively creeping into Mirkwood. There was a smile and a song on every elf's lips in those early months of the year. _Almost _every elf's.

Thranduil stood with his ceremonial staff held lightly in one hand. The scepter of Mirkwood, an exquisitely carved branch with veins of cloud-blue silver wrapping gracefully about it, had passed to him from his father. If Legolas continued on the path that lie before him, one day it would be his. However the king had his doubts. Legolas favored Thranduil in appearance, but he possessed his mother's heart. Where that heart would lead him, only Ilúvatar knew.

At the memory of his wife, a shadow passed over Thranduil. His hand tightened on the staff. He had the finest army in Middle-earth, but it had not been strong enough to keep that one band of goblins from—

Thranduil pulled his mind fiercely away from the memory.

The footfall of an approaching elf made him turn. Thranduil's expression shifted. His oldest friend, who could just as easily be called his oldest enemy, entered the room. "Lord Elrond," he greeted. "You come from your visit with Tauriel?"

"I do," Elrond affirmed.

Elrond was on one of his "diplomatic missions". It took a surprising amount of effort to keep the vacillating alliance between Rivendell and Mirkwood alive. Thranduil had requested he look in on an elf maiden. She had recently suffered the traumatic loss of her parents.

"And?" Thranduil prompted.

"My healing skills go only as far as the body. I can heal a broken limb. A broken heart is a different matter," he answered solemnly.

Thranduil nodded and glanced out the overlook, scanning the canopy of his forest. His eyes rested on the pointed gray peek that was the Lonely Mountain.

"Grief has captured her mind," Elrond continued coming to stand beside the king. "And she does not trust me enough to help her escape it."

"Is that your prescribed remedy? Trust?"

Elrond smiled. "Yes. And friendship perhaps. A companion does wonders for an affliction of the heart."

Legolas, who had been walking down the adjacent hall, stopped. Passing the kings chamber on his way to fetch his bow, his acute hearing caught Elrond's last sentence. Instead of turning into the armory he continued down the hall.

§

Tauriel gazed through the twisting terrace of delicate stonework forming the far wall of her chamber. Pale sunshine and a sweet summer breeze filtered through the elegant lattice as birdsong beckoned from the canopy above. Behind Tauriel, gauzy curtains sparkled like dewdrops on a spider's web. The soft flutter of butterfly wings, imperceptible to all but elven ears, serenaded her. Yet her heart was closed to it all.

She sat unmoving and unmoved on her divan where Lord Elrond has taken his leave of her. Her sad, empty gaze rested on the pair of daggers which she held lightly in her lap. The elves Thranduil left to tend to the clearing had found them. They were her father's— her last link to her parents and her former, happy life.

"I was pleased to learn they retrieved them for you," said a voice behind her starting Tauriel out of her reverie. She glanced up. In the doorway, the elven prince stood watching her. He bowed his head in greeting and, hastily rising to her feet, Tauriel did the same.

Even after months of living in the King's Halls, Legolas remained something of an enigma to Tauriel. He was reserved with an almost ice-like silence about him, yet there were moments when his demeanor warmed. When it happened, it was as if the sun appeared from behind clouds.

The prince stepped forward. "Have you been trained in their use?" he asked, gesturing toward the knives.

Tauriel looked down at the silver blades. "No, _Hîr nín_."

Legolas nodded and seemed to consider something deeply for a moment. Then he moved towards the door. "Come, but leave your daggers." Puzzled, Tauriel did as he asked.

Legolas lead her to a slightly underground courtyard, the roof open to the forest above. Tree roots trailed down the stone walls. Vines looped gracefully among the racks of weapons that lined the circular perimeter.

Tauriel looked about in surprise. She had never seen this part of Thranduil's Halls before.

"This is where my father taught me to fight," Legolas stated in explanation. He unsheathed his shimmering white knives and laid them aside. Moving to a rack of weapons made of a solid, dark wood, he chooses two sets of practicing knives. "Take these." He handed Tauriel a pair. She received them, unsure of what the mysterious prince had in mind.

Legolas took up a position in the center of the flagstone court and beckoned her forward. Her mind awhirl with questions, she advanced until she stood a few feet from him.

Legolas looked at Tauriel, considering. "You remind me of the moon," he stated. "There is a flame inside you, but it is remote and far away. It waxes and wanes and even disappears at times. It's wavering now. Help me change that."

Tauriel was taken aback. It wasn't a plea or a question. It was an offer of escape—escape from her grief, her helplessness and her loneliness.

"With these?" she asked, raising the wooden knives.

"At first."

Tauriel took a deep breath and nodded. "Show me."

The prince nearly smiled. It was so close, but he cut it off abruptly. It wasn't time yet. Stepping forward, he took both of his knives in one hand. With his other, he adjusted Tauriel's thumbs up the handles of her daggers.

"Hold them like this," he began.

§

Autumn had transformed Mirkwood into a raining grove of gold and scarlet. With every gust hundreds of leaves tumbled to the ground, shuffling fitfully when a stray breeze tickled their edges.

A particularly strong gust sent one such crackling company swirling into the stone courtyard where two elves sparred with wooden knives.

A few leaves found their way into Tauriel's hair, but she had no time to brush them away. With a lightning fast twist of her wrist, she caught Legolas's blade on the flat of hers, sending one of his daggers skittering across the paved court. It was a trick he had taught her himself and, of course, he had anticipated it. Easily maneuvering his other blade to catch the handle of hers, Legolas spun Tauriel back several steps. When she repositioned to face him again, his knife was back in his hand. Legolas raised one of the fake daggers forward, twirling the other calculatingly.

Tauriel's wooden knife crossed his, but only for a second before she had side stepped behind him and thrust both her knives forward. Legolas caught them on his, hardly turning his head. To Tauriel's dismay and awe, he had twisted his knives, locking their blades together. Pulling up, he swirled around, forcing Tauriel to stumble forward so they stood face to face. Tauriel knew what would come next and Legolas did not disappoint. With one elegant flip, both her daggers flew from her grasp landing on opposite sides of the yard.

Tauriel smiled and dropped her empty hands. "You triumph once again, _hîr nín_(my lord)," she declared with admiration in her eyes. These lessons with the prince had revealed a skill that surpassed even her father's in speed and refinement. Every move Legolas made was smooth, perfectly formed, and _always_effective. She had never seen him make a mistake. Not once. She, however, had made more than she cared to recall.

Legolas bowed his head in thanks. He retrieved Tauriel's daggers and handed them back to her.

There was a flushed color in her cheeks and she panted slightly from the exertion. She was smiling again, the prince noted with reserved pleasure, and even laughing occasionally. The months of training had, albeit painstakingly slowly at first, steadily removed the shadow of grief from her. As he looked at Tauriel now, only the memory of it remained in her hazel eyes. Her beautiful hazel eyes.

Legolas was about to speak when an elf stepped into the courtyard.

"My lord Legolas, Tauriel." He bowed. "King Thranduil summons you, _Hîr nín_," he told the prince.

Legolas nodded and turned to Tauriel. "Till tomorrow?"

"Till tomorrow," Tauriel agreed.

Something, still partly veiled, hid in the prince's eyes. Reaching up, he pulled a flaming red leaf from Tauriel's hair, placed it in her hands, and followed the messenger into the stone corridor.

Tauriel closed her hand over the leaf, careful not to crush it. The last of the ice enclosing her heart since her parent's deaths melted away. Tauriel raised her eyes to follow after the elven prince.

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Thank you so much to everyone reading this!

**TBC**


	4. Chapter 4

Sorry this chapter took longer to post! Hope you enjoy!

**Chapter 4**

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Thranduil dismissed his advisors and leaned back in his chair. In one hand he held a crystal wine glass, glistening in the dusky half-light of the underground chamber. He drew his other hand across his forehead wearily. There had been an orc raid towards the south, a group of men wanted to build a city near the Lonely Mountain – Dale, they were going to call it, and there were rumors that Dol Guldur was restless. He would have to send Feren to investigate Dol Guldur. The men could build their city wherever they chose so long as they did not intrude in Mirkwood. The orcs… He would have to send someone after them as well. Thranduil stood and walked across the room, setting his wine down untouched.

He glanced toward the door, his unnerving sixth sense alerting him of someone's approach.

Legolas entered. Giving a brisk bow, he met his father's gaze directly. "You summoned me, _hîr nín_(my lord)?"

"I did." Thranduil turned and picked up his wine glass again. "Orcs were seen gathered near the Old Forest Road. I want you to organize scouting expeditions to regularly patrol the southern border." He eyed Legolas intently over the rim of the glass as he lifted it to his lips.

"I will see it done," the prince replied.

A strained atmosphere existed between father and son since the queen's death. Thranduil knew he was to blame for it. He had shut himself away from everything and everyone after the tragedy. When he finally emerged and sought out his son, he knew instantly that he had waited too long. Legolas's heart had also broken and Thranduil had not been there to mend it. The cure to helping his son evaded Thranduil. No, that was a lie. He knew the cure but couldn't bring himself to use it. It would take Legolas leaving Mirkwood and that was something Thranduil could not bear. Not yet. Perhaps Legolas would not need to leave. Ever since Tauriel's arrival, his step had been lighter. Something in Legolas's eyes which reminded Thranduil of _her_could be seen just beneath the surface. Legolas seemed hopeful again.

The thought of Tauriel reminded Thranduil of another matter. "Tauriel is adapting well to her life here?" he questioned.

Something flashed across Legolas's face. "She is, _Hîr nín_."

Thranduil nodded and took another sip of wine. "I have considered giving her a position here. It would be something to keep her occupied. She has a bright mind for one so young." The king paused and cocked his head slightly to one side. "You know her well. What do you suggest?"

Legolas did not hesitate. "Captain of the Guard."

Thranduil raised an eyebrow. "Captain of the guard," he repeated incredulously, "Is she capable of it?"

"I believe she is. I will help her at first, but before long she will be able to handle the guard herself. She learns quickly," Legolas added.

Thranduil looked long at his son, but then agreed. "Very well. You may tell her whenever you judge the time to be right." He turned, signifying the interview was at an end.

"_Adar_…(father)"

Thranduil stiffened and turned back to face his son, an expression of surprise showing in his eyes.

"Will you ask her, _Adar_? Perhaps at _Mereth Nuin Giliath (_the feast of starlight)? It would mean more coming from the King."

Composing himself quickly, Thranduil nodded. "I will… _ion nín_… (my son)" The words felt foreign on his tongue, but like those one would want to learn the meaning of— and say often.

"_Hannon le_," Legolas replied.

Precious silence passed between king and prince, expressing more than words ever could. Then Legolas bowed and withdrew.

Thranduil remained standing where Legolas had left him. The king sighed as if awakening.

"_Ion nín…_"

§

The perfect stillness of winter's first snowfall foreshadowed Mirkwood. From her latticed window, Tauriel observed the change that had come over the forest. She could feel the trees sleeping now. Their breathing had slowed. The butterflies had departed until spring when they would return to keep their fluttering vigil over the woodland realm.

A smiled played at the corner of her lips as she waited expectantly for the prince. Not once had he missed their training sessions. Gradually, Tauriel had become confident with the wooden blades. The skills Legolas has assiduously taught were become natural and smooth. She had even crafted a few of her own. They never surprised the prince though. With a slide of a foot or fluid flip of his wrist, he always managed to thwart them. But afterwards he would say, "Use that move again." And Tauriel would blush with the understated compliment.

Tauriel turned to see the prince as he came through the entrance to her chamber.

"Did I keep you waiting?" Legolas asked.

Tauriel shook her head, glancing out the window. "I was admiring the change that had come over Mirkwood."

"Indeed, it has," Legolas agreed his eyes never leaving Tauriel.

As she stepped towards the door, Legolas stopped her. "Bring your daggers."

"_My _daggers?" she inquired, shock evident in her voice. The prince nodded.

Tauriel hurried to the chest where she kept her father's knives. She drew out a leather wrapped parcel and glanced at Legolas. He nodded encouragingly. With care, she undid the bindings and picked up the two shining knives. Memories of her parents flooded over her, yet no longer brought heartbreaking pain. Tauriel felt only a deep love and peace from the knowledge that they were in Valinor.

They walked through Thranduil's Halls side-by-side in silence until they came to the courtyard where their practices took place. Legolas moved to the middle of the court. Ignoring the rack of wooden blades, he drew his twin knives. The handles were a blonde, nearly white wood, smooth with use and glided with gold as were the silver blades. To look upon them brought to mind the ancient legends of mithril.

"Shall we begin?" Legolas asked.

Tauriel swallowed nervously. "With these?" she asked looking at her father's knives.

"I trust you."

"_A im estel cin_, (_and I trust __you_)" she thought, realizing this truth for the first time. If there was one person in middle-earth she could trust completely, it was Legolas. _Estel_, the elvish word for trust had a dual meaning. It also meant hope. Legolas had given her both.

At the first crossing of steel blades, a thrill of excitement coursed through Tauriel's veins. The two elves twirled and slid, side-stepped and dodged in choreographed perfection. The clash and slice of the blades as they met and parted, met and parted, shivered through the icy air.

Silent and sparkling, snowflakes slipped in between the elves as they swirled about each other. The knives, extensions of each elf, danced in perfect harmony.

Tauriel caught the prince's blade and using the pressure of the two knives as an axis swung behind him. Catching Legolas's other knife while keeping her position behind him, she ducked and held the two daggers together by adjusting her grip. Legolas brought all the daggers together with a steely snap. He pulled forward, simultaneously turning.

Tauriel didn't resist the tug as she had before. Using the light covering of snow to slip forward, she came up in front of Legolas. With their arms above their heads, the knives locked in a flowerlike clasp, they paused. Both were breathing heavily, eyes shining.

And Legolas smiled.

It was a beautiful smile, a transforming one. The icy reserve shielding him after his mother's death melted away. Tauriel understood now. The veiled glimmer in his eyes these past months was hope. And as they stood there, the snow falling gently about them, their daggers poised above their heads, Tauriel reflected that hope.

"Do I still remind you of the moon?" she asked humbly, staring into the prince's eyes.

Legolas's smile broadened. He was beaming. "Yes," he replied. "But Tauriel, this moon is on fire."

**The End**

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A/N: Thank you so much for reading! :D I hope you liked it! Any suggestions for future Fanfictions that are set in Lord of the Rings, Hobbit, or Silmarillion? Thanks again! - Rosie Cotton


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